


Psychotic

by PrincessLedger



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Dark, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulation, Mental Institutions, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessLedger/pseuds/PrincessLedger
Summary: A mistreated girl finds herself admitted to Arkham Asylum, where the infamous Joker is locked up. Let the adventures begin. [Set directly after The Dark Knight]
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker/Original Character(s), Joker/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 40





	1. Prologue

Zachary and Angela Wilde used to be in love with one another. Angela happened to become pregnant at the age of sixteen, administering them to be wed at only eighteen. They soon relied massively on narcotics and alcohol to ease their mind from their fraught financial situation. The drugs began rotting their brain of any rational thinking or conscious decisions. The couple's daughter felt as if she had no parents at all. She never referred to them as 'mom' or 'dad', only as their birth names, if she had to speak to them. On the odd occasion, Zachary and Angela would take turns lashing out at her as if it was a game. Beaten, starved, and neglected, she thought she wouldn't live to see adulthood.

Before she had started going to public school, she thought all parents were like hers. Promptly she learned that it was one of the most immoral things a parent could do to a child. However, she did not want to trouble anyone with her heinous life. She genuinely believed she deserved it.

In her tween years at school, the hallways were always buzzing with frequent rumors and gossip of up and coming local criminals in Gotham City. The stories piqued her interest, so she began watching television late at night when her parents were knocked out. Her favorite channels were Gotham City News and GNN (Gotham News Network). She would laugh hysterically at the stories they would report, not taking them seriously. Watching and listening to such gruesome stories began to expand her mind with maniacal, murderous thoughts. Time and again, she would dream of an entity killing her parents, relieving her of the unspeakable pain she experienced. Her dreams soon began evolving, and eventually that figure became herself that murdered the drunken couple.

The fifteen-year-old daughter giggles to herself, drawing up plans on how to butcher the other occupants of the house. Earlier that day had been one of the most traumatic days of her absolute existence, details excluded. She began to huff in frustration, being unable to think. Slowly, a smirk grew on her face.

Gripping the kitchen knife handle with white knuckles, she stalks towards the ominous living room. Soft groans were heard, along with the distinct sound of clothes rustling and lip-smacking. After rounding the corner, the girl sees her two parents grinding on each other while half-dressed. The daughter turns away, turning off the television playing a cheesy sitcom. This action alerts Zachary, causing him to sit up and look with glazed vision. He squints to discover his daughter staring at them with indifferent eyes.

"The fuck? Go away you creepy little shit!" He spits. She slowly backs away, maintaining her eyes on him. Zachary growls and reluctantly gets up to grab his daughter.

"Zach! She has a knife!" Angela screams.

He snapped his neck to look at his wife when the girl shoves the tip of the knife into his jugular. This caused Angela to shriek louder, as she scrambled to the kitchen. Zachary tried to make a sound, but all that came out was gurgles followed by heaping amounts of blood. The girl slashed the older man over and over until he stopped moving, his eyes becoming lifeless. She gathers herself from the rush of adrenaline and walks to the sound of her mother talking.

"She stabbed my husband in the neck! Please hurry—" Angela stopped at the sound of footsteps. She turned around to see her daughter covered in Zachary's blood and a smile on her face. Angela instantly released the phone, the only sound being the distant 'hello' from the other line of the call.

"Sweetie... I-I'm your mother! I love you so much. I know your father was a terrible man, and he's done bad things to both of us. I-I understand your anger. Just... please... put the knife down," her mother reasoned shakily.

The blood-stained girl began laughing, "You're not my mother. You never were and never will be." Angela sobbed in response and reached behind her, gripping onto a frying pan. "The cops are on their way..." she whispered.

"Good." The daughter lunged towards her mother. At full speed, Angela swung the pan and hit the girl in the temple, knocking her unconscious. Sirens were heard distantly, so the woman sprinted outside. The girl gradually opened her eyes as her head was ferociously pounding against her skull. Lying motionless on the cold tiled floor, she finally felt a sense of fulfillment. She knew she would end up being sentenced, but she didn't care. She didn't want to be home.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to my friends on the Clown Fucker Central Discord server for helping with some of Joker's dialogue and description!! @fallingthroughstairs, @ladyoftheseastuff (follow them on Tumblr!)

On the daughter’s eighteenth birthday, she was transferred to Arkham Asylum from her in-patient psychiatric unit. The doctors confirmed her mental state did not improve, and psychiatrists within the asylum agreed they would handle her case. Passing cells, the girl recognized notorious criminals from the news. As she settled into her cell, she heard many cellmates yelling across the hallway at each other. She cowered into the corner where her bed sat, hoping to not encounter anyone.

"Hey, you,“ a voice called.

She looked up to discover a man in the room diagonal from hers. He was covered in gnarly looking scars and wore an unsettling smile. She quickly looked down, pretending she couldn’t hear. The man huffed and banged against the bars, "I’m talking to you, plum tips.” Until that moment, she had completely forgotten the ends of her hair were purple.

She finished blow-drying her freshly dyed hair, feeling defiant yet gratified with herself. A part of her was shaking in fear of how her parents would react, but that was the point. It was a symbol of recalcitrance.

Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, she ran straight into a body. The body disclosed itself as her one and only father. He seized her by the shoulders, ready to ram her to the side until he saw her head.

"You look like a fucking eggplant,“ he said while staggering away.

That had been three years ago, only a week before the incident. The doctors never bothered cutting her hair, and it never crossed her mind. The man within the enclosure crossways from hers began to spit out profanities, causing a guard to rush over.

"Shut the hell up!” the guard yells.

A soft snicker was then heard from the pitch-black cell directly across from the girl’s own. She tried to see who belonged to the sound but detected no movement within. Her environment might be affecting her mental state, she thought.

———————————

Standing in line at the cafeteria, the girl directs her eyes to the ground. She hastily obtains her food and secures an unoccupied table, next to a couple of guards. She picks at the poorly made steak fingers, not finding anything appetizing. The room began filling with muffled laughter and the occasional one-sided conversation. Guards strolled between tables but paid no attention to the inmates. Some were pretending to write on the walls, while some just stared off into space. She was gratified she wasn’t at that level of insanity, at least not yet. After a while of taking small bites of food, a towering broad-shouldered man approached her table.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked. She shook her head in response. He smiled politely and set his tray down beside hers.

The air between them infused with uncomfortable silence. The girl never once looked up from her lap, playing with a stray string on her striped outfit. The man coughed once he finished his lunch.

"Are you going to eat those?“ he points at her tray. She follows his finger to the baby carrots rolled off to the side. She repeats her head shake from the first encounter. The man whoops in delight and scarfs down the orange vegetables.

"I’m Matthew, but my friends call me Sharpener. Nice to meet you,” the man grins while extending his hand. The girl pulls her sleeve over her hand and mutually gives a handshake.

“W-where did you g-get the name Sharpener from?” the girl mumbles in question. Sharpener turns in surprise, not expecting her to talk. He laughs, “Oh, I put this guy’s finger in one. It was hilarious.” They both started laughing together, not aware they were being watched from afar.

——————-

“I want a nickname,” the girl whispered to herself while lying face-up in her cot. She hated her birth name, Lauren, for several legitimate reasons. One, her parents administered it to her. Two, it sounded like a stuck-up popular girl’s name. She sat up and began looking, maybe something would come to her. She gazed at her reflection from the metal frame of the cell bars and saw her aqua eyes. “Blue? No…” She caught a glimpse of her long hair, “Purple? Plum? Violet?” The preceding one caused her to stop. “Violet,” she repeated. Purple was her favorite color after all.

“I like it.”

Violet yelps and jerks her head around. A resounding cackle follows after her evident panic.

“Why you all… jumpy?” The voice continues. The man who bothered her not even five hours ago has been relocated for violent behavior, so she was the only one left in the hallway. Violet registers that the sound is coming from the dark ominous cell directly across. She grips the edge of the blanket, shifting it up closer to her chest. “W-who are you?” Violet asks.

"Me? I’m a voice… a voice you’ve got buried so far down in your pretty little head. Or maybe it’s coming to the surface… Stuffed under layers of societal teachings, that is just itching to get out…“ After the last word fades into the depths, the owner of the strange vocalization came up to the bars.

He was lean and wiry, with an angular jaw and impressive bone structure. His sinister brown eyes were hooded with interest and adorning a broad charming smile. Atop his head was unwashed shoulder length dirty blonde hair with a hint of green. Attached to his cheeks were deep scars stretched from the corners of his mouth to his ears. People might say the scars were ugly, but Violet thought they merely added to his allurement. Violet could feel her heart pounding fiercely within her ribcage, but was she excited or scared?

"Joker…?” Violet recalls doctors gossiping over that name during her hospitalization. They described him as a man who had a sharp Glasgow smile and wore clown makeup. Rumored to be the one who pushed Batman to kill Harvey Dent.

"One and only…“

"Are y-you not allowed to wear f-face paint here?” Violet questions.

The Joker smiles even wider, “No… It’s against their code.” He pauses to tilt his head. “Why do you ask? You want to see me in my best moments?” The accusation makes Violet flush a fiery red on her cheeks. In all honesty, she did want to see that. She wanted to see what made him… him.

“N-no, I was just curious…”

“Well ya know, curiosity killed the cat. Slaughtered him in pieces actually…” He giggled to himself. The joke made a small smirk to appear on Violet’s face.

The Joker hummed to himself and itched his greasy head. “So… Why you in the loony bin? Ya got a… mental problem?”

Violet averted her eyes and swallowed what felt like a thousand needles in her throat. “I-I killed someone.”

"Classic… Who was it? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Stalker?“

"Dad.”

He chuckled and leaned his forehead against the cold bars. “Tell me more.”

“My parents… abused me all my life. I never knew happiness around them. I began to have dreams about killing them and decided to go through with it. My mother got away, and I still think about it every day. And I don’t regret killing him, not one bit. He deserves to rot in hell for all I care.” Violet grips the edge of the bed harshly with whitening knuckles.

The Joker licks his lips and whistles lowly. “Quite a story… You want to… uh… know something?” Violet looks up in interest.

"You didn’t stutter,“ he says with half-lidded eyes.

Violet straightens her posture, "O-oh. I-I guess I got too focused.”

"Mhm.“ Joker slowly sits down, laboriously dragging his hand against the bars. Violet leans eagerly closer to observe his hands in motion. His fingernails were overgrown and hid some dirt and grime underneath. The creases on his palms were discolored, might’ve been from all of the face paint and a distinct lack of hygiene.

"So,” Violet clears her throat,“ H-how did you get caught? O-or was it your plan?”

The Joker huffs and picks at his pant leg. “I wouldn’t call it a… plan. I’m flexible, and uh… very unpredictable.”

She also overheard rumors he was a genius in planning his next move, especially with Harvey Dent and the girl named Rachel. His previous statement puzzled her, but maybe he didn’t see himself as a guy who made plans.

“The Batman hung me upside down on a ninety-story building… SWAT team snatched me,” he interrupts her thoughts.

“T-that must’ve been s-scary.”

“Not if you’re the scary one.”


	3. Chapter 2

Violet woke up to the distinctive sound of a keypad beeping and metal door creaking. Flashing her sleep-heavy eyes completely open, thinking it was her door, she abruptly sat up in the bed. She blinked wearily to see a flashlight beam in the cell across from hers, which in hand occupied the infamous Joker. The tall grimy dark blonde-green haired man stepped into the hallway with his hands bound together in handcuffs, followed by an officer. The Joker's brown eyes briefly met her broad blue ones before looking ahead. The unique pair hastily shuffled out of the quiet hallway, and into the therapy ward.  
The night before after her conversation with the Joker, they had naturally fallen into a comfortable silence. She felt as if there was a weight lifted off her shoulders, as cliché as it may seem. He didn't criticize her, because he had his flaws as well. She knew the Joker was manipulative, but something about him reeled her in.

The sun began rising on the horizon, causing rays of orange light to gleam through the barred window. As if on cue, there was an insistent knock on the metal door frame.

"Stand up, hands on the wall where I can see 'em," A security guard grumbled.

She hastily jumped up and promptly placed her palms on the brick wall. The uniformed man carefully approached her and secured her small hands together behind her back into handcuffs. Coincidentally, he guided them within the same hallway Joker was led into. Passing several empty rooms, there was only one occupied. Violet peeked inside while passing to see Joker handcuffed to a chair, sitting comfortably in front of a blonde psychiatrist. She felt a slight ache in her chest at the unwelcome sight. It faded instantly after the guard had tugged her to keep moving forward in the unnerving hallway.

She was placed in a room similar to the one she saw Joker in, also being handcuffed to the chair.

"I don't think those are necessary, Lyle," a new voice spoke.

A dark-skinned woman with a white lab coat walked into the room, taking a seat across from Violet. The guard, Lyle, slowly took off the cuffs and backed into the hallway.

"Hello, Miss Wilde. I'm Doctor Joan Leland, but you may call me Joan if that makes you more comfortable," the doctor smiles, "I'm your psychiatrist from now on." Violet felt suspicious, as all her past psychiatrists or therapists were not as nice as this woman. 

"H-hello."

Joan smiles politely, "You've been here for almost a week now, how do you feel about Arkham?"

"I-It's okay, but s-some people scare m-me."

"Like whom, if I may ask?"

"S-scarecrow, and other p-people."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but rest assured they can't harm you," she flips through her notes, "Have you made any friends yet?"

"I-I think so," Violet pulls her striped sleeves over her hands.

Joan notices the action and writes on her notepad. "Who are these potential friends?"

"A-a man named S-Sharpener... and the Joker."

Doctor Joan's pen stops mid-sentence on the paper. She lifts her eyes, "Pardon?"

"T-the Joker?"

The doctor sighs and sets her pen down. "Miss Wilde, if you wish to recover from your sickness, I recommend you not speak to that man. I detect no signs of him changing. My colleague has been attempting to spark a light but to no avail... he stays the same."

"Y-yes ma'am." Violet could feel tears forming and hung her head. She genuinely did not know if she wanted to become a better person; she often dreams about killing her mother and anyone who stood in her way. As for the Joker, she felt she had a connection with him beginning to form. The thought of not talking to him again makes her furious.

"Okay. I apologize for getting firm with you." Joan flips through her notes once again. "So, the first step for your rehabilitation is to understand and come to terms with why you're here..."

The security guard named Lyle escorted Violet back to her cell from her session with Doctor Leland. Violet noticed before walking inside that the Joker's room had lightened up a bit, maybe the overhead light bulb was fixed, she thought. Settling into her bed, she saw the Joker lounging on his own. His arms were behind his head, eyes closed, and humming to himself. He was a strange, happy man... and handsome.

"How was therapy, V?"

Violet shook herself out of her thoughts to see him sitting cross-legged and staring intently at her. Her face flushed red and pulled her knees to her chest.

"F-fine. How w-was yours, J?"

He smirked and leaned back on his hands. "Same old, same old. I wish I had more... excitement around here. Guess I uh... have you."

Violet smiled behind her kneecaps.

"Who's your psychiatrist?" Violet asked.

"A lovely woman named Harleen Quinzel..." the Joker paused after seeing Violet's face drop, "It's called sarcasm, dollface. You uh ever heard of it?" He smirked after licking his scarred lips.

Violet softly let out a laugh, "I know, I'm just n-not very fond of her I-I guess."

"You've uh... never met her, doll," Joker said with a knowing look on his perfectly sculpted face.

"There's just s-something about her that I don't like, I c-can't explain it."

"Fair enough." He sits back up, stretching his back. "Ya know, there's something about you too... that I like."

\----------------

Weeks passed of Violet following the same routine within the asylum. Therapy in the wee hours of the morning, talk to Joker, optional showering, recreational activities, eat lunch or dinner while conversing with Sharpener, and talk to Joker again before falling asleep. Violet rarely saw the Joker out of his cell, because he 'preferred being alone, but you're an exception'.

Violet wasn't one to anger easily, but one fateful morning on her way to see Doctor LeLand, she witnessed something that made her skin boil. Doctor Quinzel was hugging the Joker, and he was hugging back. Violet barely said a word to anyone the rest of the day, not even to Joker or Sharpener. Tears would form every time the unforgettable image would appear in her head, instantly making her even more frustrated. Why was she behaving like this? Why couldn't she be the one hugging him?

Later in the evening, Violet was keeping to herself, trying to make sense of her feelings. The Joker had tried gaining her attention, yet she always brushed him off with an excuse. She felt as though her brain was going to implode from overuse and intense emotions. She desperately wanted to believe he felt the same for herself, yet that was impossible; he remained a notorious manipulator who harbors no emotion. 

Then why did he hug Doctor Quinzel back?

"I can uh... see smoke coming out of your pretty little ears, dollface."

His comment made her blush intensely. Was he watching her this whole time?

"Care to share with the class on what uh happened today to turn you into Oscar the Grouch?" He chuckled.

"Nothing happened..." Violet mumbled.

The Joker smacked his lips and made no further comment. Violet laid within her bed, tugging the covers over her head. She could hear shuffling and footsteps, yet didn't look to see the source of the noise. The keypad to her door beeped, followed by her door opening and closing. Violet ripped the covers away, only to see the Joker standing inside her room.

"Hello..." The Joker smiled widely.

Violet's heart was thumping so loudly within her chest, she knew Joker could hear it. After all, he was only three feet away from her.

"H-how'd you get in here?" She whisper-shouted.

"Never ask a magician his secret, V," he said while sitting beside her, never breaking eye-contact.

Violet swallowed loudly and looked at the floor, "A guard might come..."

"Nobody's coming. I uh... have this place wrapped around my greasy finger."

The Joker brought his legs up on the bed, to sit criss-cross, head resting on his hands to look directly at Violet. 

"W-what?" Violet tried containing her smile.

"Oh... nothing important..." he said while looking around the cell walls.

Violet gently shoved the Joker's shoulder but turned her head after realizing what she did. She could hear him giggling to himself. "Don't tease me, sir," she laughed along with him.

"Ooh sir? That's new," he cackled while revealing his laugh lines around his eyes, "Will you tell me what was uh making you so crabby?"

"W-why do you want to know?"

He slowly leaned in, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's just... annoying." He broke out into a fit of laughter after seeing the astonished look on Violet's pale face. "I'm just uh...poking fun, dollface."

After his chuckles began to dwindle, Violet decided to come out with it. "She hugged you... and y-you hugged her back."

The Joker squinted his eyes, "That's what's been uh bothering you? It wasn't even real... so uh, no need to worry your pretty little head, doll," he said while leaning back on the bed and closing his eyes.

"Not real?" Violet questioned.

Joker sat up and looked deep into Violet's blue eyes once more. He lifted his hands and squeezed her cheeks together, her chin in his palm. "I'm uh... waiting. Waiting for the right moment to reel us out of this... prison. And she... she is just a stepping stone to achieve this. Now, when I say it's nothing personal, you should know... I'm telling the truth."


	4. Chapter 3

Tranquility. The dense humid air sweeps through the forest floor, leaving behind droplets of water in its wake. She can feel the nearby leaves brushing her calves and fingertips as Violet observes her surroundings. She feels comforted, as if she was surrounded by people who cherished her. In the distance rests a foggy view of a waterfall, glowing green from underneath. Vines begin to entangle and caress her as she walks towards the source of the light.

"Violet?" the voice whispers.

"... You okay?"

She elevates her head from her hands to see Sharpener looking at her with furrowed brows. She blinks to regain her eyesight and leans back in her chair.

"I-I didn't realize I fell asleep. Sorry..."

Sharpener chuckled, "It's okay, if my story was so boring you could've told me."

Violet smiles and begins to daintily pick at her food in her tray. Her thoughts begin turning to the dream she just had. The environment she recalled made her ache to witness it once again, as it conveyed a feeling of belonging. A feeling Violet isn't familiar with.

"Blonde Barbie, two o'clock," Sharpener snickers.

Violet looks up at the cafeteria counter to instantly see the one and only Doctor Harleen Quinzel. She quickly grabs two trays of decent looking food from one of the workers and makes her way out of the room. Violet huffs and takes a bite out of her bland, discolored lasagna. She knew that Joker was currently having a session with Harleen, so was she getting lunch for the two of them? A date?

"Woah there, what'd that spork do to you?" Sharpener slides the plastic utensil from her deathly grip. Flecks of blood followed the movement and pooled in her palm. Sharpener grimaced and handed her his leftover napkin.

"T-thank you. I wasn't thinking," she mumbles.

"Clearly..."

The two fell into mutual silence while the rest of the cafeteria continuously grew louder. Violet's thoughts instantly began to swarm her mind while mindlessly finishing her lunch. She recalls the time Joker reassured her that he was only using Harleen for his own gain, but as days passed she began to consider, what if he was lying to gain her trust? She didn't know him very well, but she suspects no one does. Why would J like her out of all people, if he could even like anyone that way.

"You gonna tell me why you got so angry when you saw that doctor?" Sharpener inquires.

"I-I don't l-like her very much."

Sharpener laughs, "I can tell that much. Is she your psychiatrist?"

"No... She's my fr-" Violet stopped herself. Was J even her friend? What was he to her? A silly crush at the most, she thought. "Someone I-I talk to is her p-patient."

"Hmm. And here I thought I was the only one you talked to..." Sharpener jokes. "Who is it? You don't have to tell me, I wouldn't care much."

"The J-Joker," Violet mumbles. She figured it might help to talk about him to someone else, other than Doctor LeLand who clearly doesn't perceive him in a good light.

Sharpener furrows his brow, "Are you sure it's him?" Violet nods. "Huh. You're the last person I would think who would have enough balls to even look at him, let alone hold conversations with him."

Violet freezes and slowly picks up her tray. "And y-you're the last person I would think to say t-that to me." She stands up and makes her way to the trash cans, leaving a stunned Sharpener behind.

\-------------------

The bed frame squeals loudly as Violet harshly sits down on top of it, not even bothering watching the guard lock her cell door, as she routinely does. She could feel her eyes start to burn with fresh tears as she tried calming herself down. Yet to no avail, one leaks as she's overwhelmed from her deteriorating self-worth. The more she thought, the more she agreed with what Sharpener said. Joker was the one who started talking to her, Joker was the one who prompted the conversations. She had nothing to give to J. She was worthless, and she can't even talk without stuttering. Her parents were right about everything; she realized. J had to be manipulating her, she couldn't think of another reason why he would talk to her so much.

The sound of a door creaking open swayed her out of her manic state. She shifts to unfortunately see Joker standing in her cell, same as the day he lied to her about Harleen. He smiles slyly and holds up an ID card of an Arkham employee in his stained hand.

"Here's the secret to the magic trick. Figured I might as well, uh, show ya."

Violet quickly wipes away her tears and turns her head opposite of him. She could already feel his attentive gaze burning a hole in her head, which made her heart rate increase from merely thinking about it. As she didn't respond, Joker took a seat next to her, tapping the card against his palm in frustration. She could still feel his eyes roaming her and even heard his breaths coming out of his nose. He suddenly huffs and stands up, walking to the toilet sink combo in the corner of the cell. He promptly tears off toilet paper, wets it in the sink and walks back to the low bed. J stops in front of Violet and crouches on one knee, causing them roughly to be the same height. Violet's heart is now pumping furiously in her chest now, and she's sure Joker can overhear it from how close he is.

Still refusing to look at him, she jumps when he grasps her injured hand and turns her palm upwards. Joker glides the water soaked toilet paper onto her hand, gently cleaning up the dried smeared blood.

"You don't, uh, belong here, doll. You and me both. We belong out in the city of darkness. Causing chaos. We can't be restrained. We're like, uh, wild animals. If we're kept inside a... cage, we'll itch to get out, so we can live." He threw the bloody wad of toilet paper over his shoulder and grabbed Violet's other hand in his own.

"That's why I'm getting us out of here. I can see it's, uh, eating you up inside."

"Why me?" Violet whispers.

Joker laughs through his nose, "Because, my porcelain doll. You have yet to live up to your full potential." He slowly retracts his hands from hers and stands back up. Violet already feels cold without his rare touch. "We'll, uh, talk more tomorrow."

\-------------

Weeks pass until the two decide to put their escape plan into action. Violet had forgiven Sharpener the day after he insulted her, as he sincerely apologized. Now, she was trying to convince Joker to bring him with them during their escape.

"He can't come," Joker almost growls.

"W-why not? He's nice to me and he's been in here a w-while."

"I don't care if he's the nicest guy in the world. He's not coming."

"What if he a-agrees to work for you?"

J sighs and cracks his neck. Violet continues to look at him with her puppy dog eyes, never looking away. Joker chuckles and leans towards her, entangling his hand in her long hair.

"How about... I, uh, come meet him...and decide for myself. Would you be happy then and, uh, stop nagging me?"

\-----------

Having J with Violet during lunchtime is a strange sensation. Him being next to her, causes all eyes to be on them at all times. He's a notorious criminal, who has never stepped foot in the cafeteria. That would make anyone stare at him. However, Violet seems to be the only one affected by it. J is humming to himself while eating her pudding, not bothered by the dozens of gazes on himself and his companion.

"Aren't ya... gonna eat that?" He points at her breadstick.

"I-I don't like to eat when p-people are staring."

Joker hums and sets his pudding cup down. "They're harmless. Just a bit... looney," he chuckles. That doesn't seem to ease her worries, so he stands up at the table. "If you, uh, keep staring at us like the creeps you are, I'll, uh, cut your tongues out of your mouths in your sleep," he exclaims with malice.

Instantly, everyone looks away, no set of eyes are locked on the pair anymore. Violet smiles and picks up her breadstick she was craving.

"T-thank you," Violet says before taking a bite.

"It was becoming, uh, irritating."

Sharpener finally shows up at the table, setting his tray down next to Violet's. His brows are furrowed in confusion at the intruder, nudging Violet to get an answer.

"O-oh, hi Sharpie."

"Sharpie?" Joker questions.

Sharpener coughs and sits down, "I guess that's a nickname of my nickname."

J turns back to his pudding and eats a spoonful. Violet can tell Joker doesn't like Sharpener already, but it won't hurt to try harder.

"S-sharpener has e-experience of working for someone. I-I think he could be h-helpful to you, J," Violet takes a deep breath after finishing her sentence.

Joker eats another bite and talks with his mouth full, "For who?"

"Sal Maroni. He died in a car crash, so I lost my job and eventually ended up here."

J laughs and swallows the last of the pudding, "How, uh, unfortunate... But, I work very differently from Mister Maroni."

"I've noticed... But I don't care who or what my boss does, I just do what they ask of me."

Joker looks at Violet between the two men who's staring at her food, "If he screws me over, I'll screw you over, dollface."


End file.
